Red, White and Blue
by albe-chan
Summary: Ron shows Dumbles a new way to show his appreciation for the national flag and its colours. Basically SMUT. SLASH. SEX. MATURE. Also kind of WEIRD. RWAD. For Decimare. ONESHOT.


**Red, White and Blue**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in this story, unless stated otherwise. Rated for possible sexual content, violence and language. Reader discretion is advised. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidence and I will not be held responsible! Thanks!

_**WARNING:**_ WILL CONTAIN SLASH (male on male), and RIDONKULOUSNESS!! Ye be warned

**Author's Note: **more disturbingly brilliant (or is it brilliantly disturbing?) smut from Decimare's mind and brought to life by yours truly. So here we are, and please drop me a line telling me what you thought. 'The taste of her cherry chap stick…' Cheers!

XXX

Albus Dumbledore had _always_ considered himself a patriotic kind of man. But it wasn't until he discovered his feelings for a certain redhead that he discovered a much better way to show his patriot side.

He was brooding in his office, as he was wont to do, over Harry Potter's various troubles with the Dark Lord. Merlin the boy was like a bug zapper and Voldie was like an annoyingly persistent mosquito. He sighed, and was about to go to bed, when there came a timid knock at his study door.

"Enter," he said kindly, rubbing his temples and trying not to think about the fact he hadn't been laid in _ages_. Unbidden, the thought of Ron Weasley, young Harry's friend, popped into his mind. He pushed it aside. Now was not the time for such thoughts. A splash of ginger hair attached to a head peeked through the door.

"Headmaster?" a vaguely familiar voice asked. Albus looked up and felt something twitch to life that he had long ago thought to be comatose.

"Mr. Weasley," he said evenly, trying to suppress a giggle of pleasure. "What brings you out of bed so late, and to my study?"

Ron had come fully into the room, and now shut the door behind himself, taking a seat in front of the headmaster's desk. "I…I'm worried about Harry," the redhead admitted. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at the old man from under his sun-bleached eyelashes. "He seems so tense all the time…"

Dumbledore felt his member rising to stand at attention when Ron looked at him that way. He felt himself stiffen fully when the boy's pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Hmm…" the old man murmured, mostly to give himself time to think about what Ron was saying. "Well, what with Voldemort' return, it's been very difficult for him."

Ron nodded. "I know, but…he's just so…he snaps at me, even when I try to cheer him up!" He cried, a single tear streaking down his cheek.

Dumbledore stood up, glad of his robes that would hide his mounting arousal at the young man before him. He circled round his desk and put a hand on Ron's shoulder, feeling the palm and fingers go tingly at the contact. "I suspect Harry just needs time to come to terms with his feelings, Ronald. He feels lost, and only he can find himself. All we can do is wait until that happens, and be there for him when he does."

Ron nodded, wiping furiously at his eyes. "Thanks Professor," Ron mumbled, and stood. The air between the two seemed to crackle with unspoken feelings and tension, and neither was willing to move or break the silence that stretched between them. Finally, Ron looked up into the older man's eyes. They twinkled merrily down at him, blue and bright and keen as ever, shining with some mysterious emotion.

Ron, who had always been rather tall for his age, moved closer to Albus, the air between the heavy with expectancy, and Dumbledore held his breath, eyes intent on Ron's mouth as his tongue peeked out to moisten his lips once more. He could feel his cock ache.

"Is there anything else you require Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked softly, voice catching. Ron looked down, and a smirk grew on his lips, unbeknownst to Dumbledore. The redhead could see the clear definition of his Headmaster's hard-on, and wondered absently what it would feel like.

He looked back up at the old man, his hand bridging the gap between them as his lips moved closer's to Albus'. "Well," he drawled, and felt his finger's brush the slight tent in his Professor's robes. "I don't know, but I think there could be something you require of _me_."

Dumbledore's eyes widened as the younger man's hand slid down the length of his erect phallus. "Merlin…" he hissed, before crashing his mouth onto Ron's and thrusting his tongue into the waiting cavern of the redhead's mouth.

Ron gripped Albus' cock firmly, sliding up and down with the soft luxurious texture of the robes between his hand and the heated flesh. Dumbledore pulled away from the scorching kiss, and looked at him. "Come," he said simply, and pulled Ron by the hand to sit on his hair behind his desk.

His eyes twinkled madly now, the pupils wide with passion, as he bade Ron to kneel before him, and gently tugged his robes over his skinny knees, spreading them for his young lover. Ron looked up, his face slightly blushing, and Dumbledore smiled. "What do you want to do?" the old man asked.

"I want to…to touch you…to," his blush deepened as if to mock his flaming hair, "to taste you." Dumbledore nearly came right then, and he felt his member throbbing with need.

He put on of the younger man's hands on the bulge between his legs, and Ron let his hand trail down the Professor's thigh to the edge of his bunched up robes. He slowly pushed the up more, revealing inch by inch of pallid, elderly thigh. Albus leaned back, slouching, and sighed delightedly. His beard tickled Ron's hands, and the young man smiled slightly.

He eagerly pushed the robes up now, not wanting to draw out the moment any longer, and let his eyes feast on the hard and throbbing and deeply red (almost purple) length of Dumbledore's cock. A bead of pre-come glistened in the light, looking ethereal and magical as the man from whose phallus it leaked, and Ron smoothed his hand downward, wrapping Dumbledore's length in his palm, enjoying the feel of the heated flesh in his grasp.

Albus sucked in his breath and let it out shakily. "Taste it," he urged, but Ron only smiled and fisted him slowly, seductively. Finally, after a seeming eternity, he lowered his mouth to the older man's cock, but instead of tasting the noticeably larger drip of pre-come, he bent his mouth lower, and his tongue slid out to caress the blue tinge of the Headmaster's balls, his hand still sliding maddeningly slow up and down the old man's length.

"Ohh…Merlin…" he gasped, eyes intent on Ron, whose red hair somehow matched spectacularly to the white of his beard tips and the aching blue of his testes. He glanced up, his eyes landing on the flag of England he had framed proudly across the room above his lavatory door, the red white and blue of it stark and bright.

He looked down at Ron now, whose perfect mouth was wrapped around his cock at long last, taking him as deep as possible, and making him gasp and pant and curse aloud.

Then, with a screeching cry, he came, arching and lifting his hips, his hands full of bright red hair as he thrust himself into the younger man's mouth, and Ron opened his throat, not wanting to miss a delicious drop, and Dumbledore sagged, exhausted onto his seat.

"I…I…" he gasped, but Ron merely stood, licking his lips once more, and smiling smugly.

"Thanks for this talk Professor," he said softly. "I'll try to remember what you told me."

Dumbledore could only nod, speechless, as the redhead slipped out his door without a backward glance.

As he pulled down the sheets to his bed several minutes later, readying himself for sleep, he thought back to the glorious blend of Ronald Weasley's unabashed red hair, the bright aged white of the wisps of the end of his own beard, and the soft, translucent blue of his swollen, pleasured bollocks and a smile wended its way onto his lips. Now that was a flag he would hail and salute every day…

Yes, Dumbledore had _always_ been a patriotic man; but after his memorable blowjob from the youngest of the flame-haired Weasley men, he fully appreciated the beauty of red, white and blue.

XXX

**Author's Note: **oh, I hope I haven't offended anyone with this… Ehh…if I did, I guess I'm sorry. Now please review and tell me how sick you think I am. And don't be afraid to flame and use lots of four letter words. XD Cheers!!


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